From the Ashes
by ondineofthedeep
Summary: A bit of an AU following Norse mythology featuring an OOC female and a cast-out Loki. Loki meets a young woman and intends to make a game of her, instead discovering that she is more like him than he dared imagine anyone could be. The events leading up to Ragnarok and the way I'd imagine a modern-day Sigyn. Please R&R! thankya!
1. Preludes & Nocturnes

~*Loki POV*~

Crisp suit.

Silk tie.

5-carat diamond stickpin.

Sigh. Dressed to impress with no one on this godforsaken planet worth impressing. Relegated to Midgard until further notice thanks to my darling _brother_.

I was cast out of Asgard due to scheming and just really trying to have a bit of fun (as though this would surprise anyone) and the least I can do is try not to look like I was hurled at the speed of light from a universe an unknown distance away. Which, if you were paying attention, you know that I was.

Of course it's all because of my brainlessly valiant brother Thor. He is what they call a "hero", one of those forces of nature completely unstoppable. He mows down all in his path with no concern for the aftermath littered with debris in his wake. Typical fool, and a noble one at that.

Everyone knows that's the worst kind.

Stripped of the protection Odin had once granted me, I wandered the streets of a large city called Chicago before acquiring what I needed to relocate; i.e., Midgard money, passable false identification, and suitable clothing.

It was hopelessly dirty in Chicago, and the air was stifling, not to mention the swarms of people milling about like ants on a hill. I shudder to think.

The money was easy to retrieve; I charmed a few mortals out of their pocketbooks and wallets, which they were all too happy to hand over.

The clothing was again, easy. Plenty of places to get an exquisitely cut suit.

The identification...that was a bit more difficult. There were hoops to jump through if I wanted to pass for a mortal, people to see and do favors for.

Eventually I tired of it and, regrettably, was forced to _eliminate _a few links in the chain.

With my new mortal identity and my funds secure, I set up a (hopefully not) permanent residence in a town full of trees and old houses and long winding roads. My house is creaky and bleak and belonged to a curmudgeonly old writer who died stinking of booze at his desk.

I am quite fond of it.

Today, however, I am in a foul mood. I went into town to search for some books and instead am being plagued by thoughts of my infernal nuisance false family. Not only was I awoken at an unholy hour by a racket next door, but I seem to have been crashed into by one of these infuriated mortals.

"_Shit! Fucking Christ on a bicycle! _Would it _kill _you to watch where you're walking?"

Infuriating, yet amusing.

I seem to have bumped into a young woman. A tall, slender, white-blonde woman.

I _loathe _blondes.

Still, the smirk that tugs at my lips is inevitable as I take in the sight of this mortal picking up page after page of lined paper with little marks on it. Dots and lines.

"Perhaps _you _should learn to anticipate when a passerby might be lost in thought and therefore unable to avoid collision with your-beg pardon-unstoppable force."

No sooner than the words pass my lips do I reap the rewards; the way her anger colors her porcelain cheeks makes her almost pretty, and the way it flashes in her bright grey-green eyes sends a tremor of excitement through me.

What can I say? I adore conflict, getting someone's ire up.

"Look, dude, I don't care _how _fancy your suit is or how snotty you wanna get with me. Be a damn gentleman and help me pick up my sheet music before it gets ruined!"

For a fleeting second I feel rage bubble up, threatening my cool demeanor, but I manage to suppress it as I always have.

I help her gather up the pages, crouching down in a suit which, needless to say, was _not _cheap.

"Forgive me, madam. I find myself in a daze this afternoon. Is there any way I might redeem myself?"

Smooth as polished alabaster.

My charms, I mean, _not _her mortal (albeit luminous) skin.

She pulls a face as though I am a toad rather than the elegant god in human form that I know myself to be.

She scoffs at me. _Scoffs. _At _me._

"Yeah, how about buying me some more staff paper? Not to mention a new pair of gloves. Ugh." she groans as her knees crack and she stands upright once more.

This mortal is fiery. It amuses me so much, more than anything has in the month that I have been stuck here, that I wish to keep her engaged as long as this feeling lasts. That gives me an idea.

"Would you settle for having a drink with me? I would love to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to win your favor."

The bait has been laid, the trap set. She looks perturbed and frustrated, yet she does not refuse outright.

Oh, I'd forgotten how much fun this game could be.

"I don't know you from a hole in the wall...but...ahhhh fuck it. Yeah. Yes. Take me for a drink."

Seducing a woman, winning her heart, making her feel like she is queen of your world and then ripping it all out from under her; it is a time-consuming game but there are few that I enjoy more.

I may not have Thor's bulk nor his bravery, but I didn't get the name Silvertongue for nothing.

"Excellent. We can go anywhere you like, Ms...what shall I call you?"

She pushes back her pale hair with one hand and blinks those sloe-green eyes at me like a baby deer.

"Sigyn. Sorenson. Gin for short. Who are you?"

She is rough around the edges, unrefined, yet I find myself enjoying her company already.

"Laufeyson. Loki Laufeyson. Let us hope the rest of our evening goes more smoothly than our initial...meeting." I say extending my hand to her.

I almost give her my former surname, Odinson, but catch myself. Why lie? I think bitterly.

Sigyn, Gin, shakes my hand firmly once with a stronger grip than I'd anticipated.

Excellent, I think once more as we walk down the puddle-ridden sidewalk. Excellent.

~*Gin POV*~

I'm at O'Callahan's on this foggy autumn day with a total stranger. I can't help but wonder what my life is coming to.

Still, he's paying for drinks, and I'm choosing to try and make the best of a what's been a pretty crap day.

What I know about so far is his name (Loki), his age (30), and that he is _very _rich and _extremely _difficult to razz.

I mean, he's so slick it's like he's been polished.

So basically, I've been trying to push buttons hoping that I'll cross some line and get him as upset as I was earlier (my unfinished symphony and other arrangements scattered and soggy on the ground. Sob.) but nothing has worked.

He's remarkably evasive and it's pissing me off.

He's certainly not hurting my eyes at all, in any case. He sips his old-fashioned and peers up at me with round eyes as green-blue as they come, watery and pink-rimmed like he stepped out of a Botticelli painting.

God, listen to me. I've definitely had one too many.

Loki's thin lips seem to always be in a state of purgatory between a half-smirk of amusement and a somber twist of distaste, though he smiles like a hungry snake. I don't like that.

Or maybe I do?

Ugh.

The bartender, Mac Reynolds, has been giving me waggly eyebrows all night. It's like everyone here knows me (they do) and knows that I'm being hit on (I'm not sure if I am.)

"Where do you come from, Mr. Laufeyson? I mean, your accent is hardly American..." I don't add 'not to mention you're _way_ too handsome'.

He swirls the melting ice around in his third glass of bourbon with one long index finger, which seems uncharacteristic for someone so clean.

"That is true, I'm not an American by birth. I was born in...Norway. My parents moved me and my...brother...to England when we were young. My accent I'm sure has a little sprinkling of Germanic in with the Queen's English."

He seems to tense visibly at the mention of his family, a fact to which I can wholeheartedly relate. I wonder if his brother sucks too.

"But you don't want to hear about _me. _I want to hear about _you, _about your music. Quite an ambitious amount of paper I knocked on the ground earlier."

He flashes that charming smile-smirk my way again and I can't stand it. I can't stand the way it accentuates his knife-sharp cheekbones even more and makes me want to finish my drinks faster.

I can't stop playing with my hair.

I'm afraid I might be more than halfway to drunk city.

"I would love to tell you _allll _about my music, Loki, but," I am kicking myself before the words even come out, "I'm getting more and more intoxicated as the conversation goes on, and I should tell you now that I walked into town today and would you mind terribly being a gentleman and taking me to my house?"

He chuckles and brushes his knuckles across my flushed cheek, smiles, and does up the buttons of my coat. Maybe it's all the booze, but I feel suddenly too hot for the room.

"Of course, Gin. A lady should always be accompanied home when it's late. Lucky for you, I happen to be an expert navigator. Just give me your address."

I do, and we head out to the street where he offers his arm to me. We start down the sidewalk once more, me relying on him for balance and he walking straight as if he'd never touched a drop tonight.

##############################

~*Loki POV*~

"And _that's_ when I told them I'd rather live in the Yukon territory in a cave than live in that house with them anymore!"

Gin's face is flushed with alcohol and enthusiasm as she gives me a rousing account of her estrangement from her family.

I'm glad I inquired about the photograph on her piano, a framed picture of her father and younger brother.

Her brother is a brawny young man, blonde and smiling in the photo. He reminds me quite a lot of a clean-shaved mortal version of my own brother.

We're sitting in a room with a piano, a few couches, and shelf after shelf filled to the brim with books. Ironically, she lives not five houses away from me, and it turns out the ruckus this morning was her dog chasing after a squirrel.

Her dog, what she called a Siberian, is actually quite likable and in fact sitting beside me on the couch with her head laying in my lap.

"There'll be hair all over you, I'm so sorry." Gin grimaced when the dog claimed me. I like the dog. She looks like a wolf, and her eyes are odd; one blue and one brown.

"It is of no consequence to me, Gin Sorenson. Sorenson. Swedish, perhaps?"

She nods, closing her eyes.

"Swedish-Irish. My mom was Colleen McGuinness. I get the pale skin and the green eyes from her. Everything else," she gestures loosely to her body, "is courtesy of my dear father Axel."

After our arrival at her home, Gin has since changed clothes. I will never get used to the freedom with which mortals display their bodies and skin; she wears a thin top with no sleeves, and short pants which may as well not be there at all, giving me a supreme view of her long legs.

I confess I have not felt the flesh of a woman in a long, _long _time, and I cannot help but think how she might feel under my hands...

No.

Not yet.

First, I must make her love me, truly love me. I know it would be too easy now, with the drink in her blood and the way she glances at me from across the room.

"Go on, then. Play me something," I suggest, waving my hand at the piano, hoping to deter anymore lust-filled looks from her. She sighs somewhat disappointedly before staggering over to the baby grand and plopping her willowy body onto the bench.

Then she starts moving her hands across the polished keys, closing her eyes and entering a dreamlike state as the most astounding sounds are coaxed forth from her instrument.  
Crescendoes and thunderous melodies give way to haunting measures and harmonies, and I can't help the feeling of satisfaction that overwhelms me at hearing this masterful composition.

She rocks with her music, forward and back, and her trance seems primal and passionate. The thought again creeps into my mind what it would be like to bed her...  
Would she like for me to dominate her, or would she refuse to be controlled?  
Either way, I refuse to rush this. For the game to work, one must be patient.

When Gin finishes her piece, she looks positively drunk, slumping over the keys and slurring some unintelligible words at me. I take it upon myself to carry her up the treacherous stairs to what I deduce is her bedroom, laying her gently down on a heap of pillows.  
Just as I am turning to go, however, she reaches up with the agility of a striking snake and grabs my forearm.

"Stay?" she mumbles, and for some unknown reason, I feel compelled to do just that.


	2. A Game of You

~*Sigyn POV*~

My first thought after waking up is _why the hell is my arm asleep?_

Then _oh. _

_Never mind. _

It's the guy from yesterday, from last night. Apparently, I made a big, drunken mistake, the like of which I've not made since college.  
Not to mention, my head is swimming with leftover booze making it very hard to prop myself up or think cohesive thoughts. When I do manage to free my arm from his iron grip, I can't help looking at him while he's not in motion.

His lips are still and unsmiling, and his brow is less worried, more peaceful. He looks like a work of art.  
All that is ruined, though not a moment later.

"Were you going to stare at me _all _morning, or did you have other plants?"

The sound of Loki's velvet-low voice nearly gives me a heart attack. I very nearly pissed my pants. The fact that he caught me staring is bad enough, but the fact that he knew _without opening his eyes_is just disturbing on a whole new level.

"You-you _creep! _You absolute _jerk-off!_ I thought you were sleeping!" I shriek, to his obvious amusement. My reaction elicits what seems to be the first real smile of his I've seen as well as a laugh.  
Just as I make to get out of bed, though, he pulls me back down with one strong arm. Stronger than he looks, apparently.

"Come now, don't be like that. I was merely teasing. You can't blame me for laughing, you should have seen the look on your face!" he says as his own expression fills with mirth and he succumbs to a fit of slightly insane giggles. Yes, _giggles._

"Oh, you...you...you're a jerk! You're a sharp-dressed, well-spoken _ass_hole!" I exclaim throwing my arms up in defeat. The slope of his eyebrows as he cackles though is enough to get me going too.  
We lie back and really have a laugh, the kind where your ribs kill and you feel like you could choke to death on your own spit.  
When he finally settles down, Loki's pale cheekbones have a pink tinge to them, and I get the feeling he doesn't laugh like that very often.  
He clutches his stomach, or rather where his stomach would be were he not so thin, and sighs contentedly.

"I can't recall the last time I was so entertained, really. That was...that was wonderful." he says with a small chuckle.

I can't help but think how much his face changes when he laughs, not to mention how _straight _his _teeth _are, and...  
Stop it. **Stop it. **

"Uh, Loki? We didn't...oh, _god, _why do I feel like a teenager...we didn't..._you _know...last night, did we?"

For a moment I fear I may have set him off again, but he keeps it together aside from one or two more manic giggles. Pushing himself upright to look me in the face, Loki takes my hands in his and summons up a very sincere expression.

"I assure you, Sigyn Sorenson, that we did _not_..._you know _last night, or any other such activity. You required some assistance getting to bed, which I provided."

"Really? Oh, _god_ that's a relief." I say, letting my head flop back onto my pillow. "The last thing I need is a...well, anyway moving on, _why_ exactly did you sleep in my bed?"

Loki purses his lips and rolls his eyes, looking exasperated.  
"I stayed upon your insistence, i assure you. I might add, sleeping in a dress shirt and trousers was _quite _an experience. One I should like very much to put behind me."

It's my turn to laugh when I notice his rumpled clothes and tousled black hair. He looks somewhat like a cat who's fallen into a bath, completely unused to being so ruffled and unkempt.  
Loki becomes indignant at my laughter.

"I don't know what's so funny about it, seeing as how _you're _the one who looks like...like...well, I'm certain if you'd gone to bed in your clothes you'd be just as out of sorts!"

He seems actually irritated and I can't help the overwhelming glee that I feel at his furrowed brow and folded arms. My hand instinctively goes to my near-waist-length hair, which is amazingly not a rat's nest.

"I really asked you to stay, though?" I ask after several moments in a voice that surprises me with it's timidness. It seems to snap him out of his little bout of moodiness.

"Indeed. I must admit I found it strange, but...I couldn't say no to you for some reason. Perhaps it was your grip on my arm; I think there's a bruise."

Speaking of bruises...I get bruises from my dog, Laika, when she jumps on me...my dog! Ugh, curse huskies and their consistent need for an hour long morning walk!

"Ah, fuck. I have to walk my dog. Do you mind waiting, or have you got somewhere to be?" I let the words slip out without thinking.  
This seems to put the little smile back into his lips, my little outburst and the fact that my subconscious wants to spend more time with him.  
_Goddamn it._

"I don't, now that you ask, have anything on my schedule today. Would it trouble you if I accompanied you on your walk? I must say I was very fond of your dog last night."

I suppress a chortle with my arm before replying.  
"No trouble. I should warn you, though, she's a bit loony in the morning. It's at your own risk..."

#######################################################

~*Loki POV*~

The mortal is surprised that I can so adeptly handle her dog, much less keep up with the swift stride of the animal. Sigyn is swift as well.

Though I didn't plan on staying with her for so many hours initially, she pleases me with her strangeness and her brash way of speaking.  
And the way she delights in tricks.

This morning is cool and damp once again, and I requested that we stop at my own residence so that I could change out of those ghastly slept in clothes.

"You live so close to me!" Sigyn marveled when we stopped in front of my current house. I smirked to myself as I turned away. This was all unfolding nicely, my impromptu plan to pass the time of my banishment.  
I could charm her any way I like, toy with her and make her my slave, but she is turning out to be more of an opponent than a plaything than I gave her credit for.  
No magic for this one.

We walk and talk, sometimes letting the conversation trail off into a comfortable silence which is filled by the rustling of the trees and the heavy breathing of her dog. Once or twice I have to seriously stop myself from taking hold of her hand. Truthfully, I worry that I may be catching the stupidity of mortals, being stuck here on Midgard with them.

She is a mortal, a blonde, foolish young mortal who cannot handle her drink and who seems to have a chip on her shoulder. Gone in a blink, they say.  
Gone in one faerie sigh, mortals.

_What common thread could unite a dishonored God of Asgard and an embittered and solitary human woman?_

And yet...something about her draws me in inexplicably. It is not her physical beauty, though she does possess it, for I have held beautiful immortals and mortals alike in my thrall before.  
I watch her from the corner of my eye, taking in the determined set of her jaw and the way she matches my stride with her long legs.  
Quite tall, she is, almost able to look me in the eyes when standing toe to toe.

Perhaps it is the hardness lying just beneath the surface of her features, the sharp edge to her loveliness that tells those who would try not to bother.  
Her eyes hold an intelligence that most women, and I make no apologies for this, usually lack.  
Something familiar in her face, in her demeanor makes my stomach knot. She could be trouble, already proving able to manipulate me, _me_, someone who manipulates and is never taken in.  
**_She made me laugh, she made me stay with her._**But it is _precisely _that potential for danger that excites me and sets my blood afire.

"Watch out!"

I don't realize that I've walked into the street and in front of a car until it's too late, and with Gin's shout still ringing in my ears, instinct takes over.  
The car is repelled as though by a forcefield surrounding me, and I am unscathed.  
The witless driver burbles some apology which I disregard with a wave of my hand.

Sigyn and I walk another block or so in silence before she stops and turns to me with a storm in her eyes.

"Okay, you have five minutes to explain to me what the _hell _that was back there. _What. Are. You."_

Oh, dear. The moment of truth so soon?  
I try to suppress a toothy smile.  
I fail.  
"Ms. Sorenson, I'm appalled! As a woman of Norse descent, I was certain it wouldn't be hard for you to guess."

She frowns, looks away, then back at me. Realization dawning on that face is sweet as a virgin's cry.

"You mean-your name? But I thought..."

I interrupt her because I can't wait any longer.  
"You thought I was merely using an alias? Being playful, perhaps? I assure you, I can be _very _playful, but about my identity I cannot ever seem to lie."

She takes a step back, her dog stares up at me with her odd-colored eyes and tilts her head.  
"You mean to tell me that you're-you're a-you're _him? Loki? _The real one," she runs her hands through her flaxen hair repeatedly. "This is in_sane. _You realize this is insane," she says to me so sternly that I accidentally guffaw.

"Well, should you require anymore proof than what you have just seen, I shall gladly give it."

Sigyn's brows scrunch in thought for a moment before she flashes those uncanny eyes at me again. The eyes of a goddess, I realize.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Show me something else. _Prove _that you...that you're him."

I take a deep breath and a few steps back from her, my blood is pulsing with electricity in my veins; I wish to show this mortal something she will never, _ever _forget.

***end chapter 2***


	3. Season of Mists

***_A/N: pardon me if I haven't quite got the hang of all this yet; though I've been reading fanfiction since I was a kid, I never really posted any :p That said, hopefully anyone who's read any is enjoying my first fic on here! This chapter is where the M stuff comes in, so beware!***_

__~*Sigyn POV*~

My head is spinning.

He's really not human.

The man I met yesterday, _Loki Laufeyson, _is really who he says he is. In addition to preventing a car from slamming into him full-force using just his mind, I watched him create doppelgangers of himself then make them vanish, I watched him turn gravel from the gutter into precious stones and then back again, and I watched him conjure an actual living bird from the cloud of my breath.

**_Incredible. _**

**__**I wanted to beg him to show me _more_, to just _tell_ me how he did it, but I was tongue-tied. When he'd finished turning a garter snake into a python and finally a statue of a python, Loki turned to me. The trace of a smile was gone from his lips, and he looked all at once very serious and very unsure. Then he took my hand and in my palm placed a large coin made of what I guessed was silver.

"Now you have seen, Sigyn Sorenson, what no mortal man or woman has seen. I have shown you a few tricks, minor aspects of my abilities, so you see that I **_am_** who I say I am." he paused and furrowed his brow before closing my fingers around the coin. "This coin is my sigil, a token. Keep it with you, lock it away in a drawer, sleep with it beneath your pillow, do with it what you wish **_but,_**I would urge you **not **to rid yourself of it entirely. You may need it."

I nodded even though I didn't understand, not yet. I was trying my hardest to look like I wasn't beyond freaked out, totally mortified. My father had always told my brother and I folk tales from his homeland, stories of Asgard and of Odin and Thor...and yes, Loki. My father always said it was Loki who made me do the things I did, playing tricks and being difficult, that I must have been born under his moon.  
Now here he was, God of Mischief and Destruction, showing me things I didn't believe were possible and _sleeping in my bed, __**gaining my trust.**_ In a monumentally short period of time, I had begun a flirtation with a god whose reputation was poor at best. _Why me? _

"What do you mean, 'I may need it'? It's a coin. I'm sure the _last _thing a mixed-up person like me needs is a gift from the God of Chaos..." I said, unable to wrench my hand out of his, unable to keep the trembling out of my voice. For a moment I thought I must have disappointed him terribly by the look on his face, but it was gone as quick as it had come.

"This is my _token, _Sigyn. Should you need me, or perhaps..._want _me...all you must do is say my name and press this coin to your lips. Until that moment, though, I fear...I must take my leave of you. I'm sure you have many things to think on."

With that, he brought my hand to his lips gently pressing a kiss to my knuckles, then disappeared. No 'poof', no smoke or glitter, just gone. I was left standing alone on the sidewalk with my dog and a coin in my hand, my hand that the skin was still tingling from where his lips had touched.

...

It's been two weeks since...since all of it happened, and I can't stop turning Loki's token over in my hand. On one side is some sort of helmet with long, curved horns, and on the other is a snake twisted in celtic loops.  
I've been thinking nonstop about it, about all of it, and I wondered if it might have anything to do with the attacks in New York and the superhumans and all of the craziness that happened this summer. Perhaps he's like them, just someone who mutated or has extra abilities.

Perhaps he is, but I'm only fooling myself with the thought. I _know_ what he is.

Now, in my bedroom, I wonder where he's been hiding these last weeks. Has he not left his house? Is he invisible and lurking around in _my _house? I shudder at the thought. Still, something about him is magnetic. If the mythology holds true, Loki carries a terrible burden and constantly dances on the line between redemption and destruction. He hasn't given me a moment's peace, though I haven't spoken to or seen him; it's like my brain just _won't _let it go.

_"Okay. Enough's enough. I can't take this anymore," _I think, turning the coin over one more time before saying Loki's name aloud. No sooner than the metal touches my lips does he materialize at the foot of my bed, wearing _pajamas_.

"Well, that's not the outfit I was expecting..." is all I can manage before covering my face with my hands and falling into a helpless fit of cackles. I mean, I've been intimidated by the _thought _of this guy for weeks and then I see him in flannel old-man style _pajamas. _

"You know, for someone who just called upon a catalyst for total destruction, you aren't very bright." he says with a scoff. "What am I supposed to wear to sleep, armor and a cape?"

And just like that, all my crazy thoughts are gone, the storm in my head pacified. He's a god, yes, but he's a god who wears pajamas and gets snippy when he's teased. I know that I probably shouldn't be laughing at him, but I can't seem to stop. Laika sits in the corner on her big pillow and looks at me like I've gone crazy. I probably have.

"I just-didn't-know that-gods even _needed _sleep!" I manage to choke out between giggles. I should stop, really, but I don't and so I can't really blame anyone but myself for not noticing the gleam in his eye. Catlike and imperceptibly fast, he's above me, caging me in with his arms and legs. The pajama shirt is gone, and I'm eye-level with his lean white chest. Although thin, he's certainly not lacking in tone...

"We do, Sigyn, we do. In fact, we need many things when we are in our mortal forms on Midgard. Shall I give you a list, or would you prefer I just _show _you?" he purrs into my ear before gently biting the lobe.

How the hell did this happen? And why am I not resisting? Possibly because I haven't gotten laid in over a year...but that's no excuse! I can't think too hard, though, because Loki is running his long fingers up and down my exposed stomach. Wait, where is _my _shirt?!

"Loki, _please_..." I mumble in protest, which comes out sounding like a come-on. He brushes his thumb over my cheek and hovers so close to my lips with his own that I can feel the electricity between us.

"Please _what?_" he says, and the motion of speaking the words causes his lips to just barely touch mine. "Please stop? Please continue? I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little bit more clear...grey area is my favorite place to play."

My head is filled with smoke, like I've been hitting blunts all day, only the smoke filling my head is heavily perfumed and the room is about 200 degrees. Loki kisses along my jawline, so lightly that I can't be sure if I'm imagining it, and I feel like I'm going to throw all caution to the wind.  
Yep, I am.

"Just...just stop _teasing _me, alright?!" my voice is breathy and full of want, and I'm sure I'll be embarrassed about this later, but something in the air has changed between us.

"You had only to ask, Sigyn." Loki says with a quirk of one eyebrow and a smile like a wolf. "But if you do this, you are consecrating your body to _me _and _me alone. _Only _I _will ever be able to give you the pleasures of the flesh, no other. You are _mine_, understood? You lie in _my _bed and you give your lips only to _me."_

__Oh, I am _definitely _going to regret this later, but the blood that throbs in my body is almost chanting his name and I can't think straight with him on top of me. He won't let me press myself to him, let me move until I answer.

"Yes, I'm _yours." _I breathe with a whine of frustration creeping into my voice. I hope I've made the right choice.

"Then you shall have me, Sigyn Sorenson. I warn you, this will not be like any man who you have known." he says, still agonizingly close yet not touching me.

"Just shut _up _and _take _me, then!" I half-groan.

I seem to have said the magic words. He crashes his lips into mine with such force, pushes his hips into mine so that I have to spread my legs for him. His arousal is hard and radiating heat, and he kisses me with a fury that I wholly return. He bites my lips, my neck, _hard. _The pain is brief, and gives way to a rosy pleasure.  
Loki is a fierce lover, capable of being soft and sensual one moment and ready to draw blood the next. I can't help the way I feel, animalistic and passionate.

My panties are decimated, his ridiculous pajamas abandoned, and I go weak in the knees when he slides one long finger inside me. Then two. Normally, I have trouble taking anyone even average-sized, but I'm fully aware of how soaked I am down there, how ready for him I am. I want him to fuck me, and I want him to do it _right __**now. **_

_****_Loki has other plans, though, as he spends what feels like forever sucking and biting my nipples, taking me to the brink of pain but never letting the pleasure die. I'm not used to letting someone dominate me, and somehow, he knows it. He pushes my legs even further apart and gives me a smirk before running his tongue over my clit. I barely manage to suppress a moan before threading my fingers through his ebony hair and pulling his head back down to my pussy. Loki seems to enjoy having his hair pulled, and I feel like I'm going to explode with everything he's doing to me. He sucks on my clit, runs his tongue down the length of my labia all the way to my slit, probing and then entering. It's like he knows exactly what I want without any help from me, like he can read my body the way I can read sheet music.

I feel my muscles start to clench in orgasm after more of this, but just as I'm about to come he stops. Moving his body on top of mine again, his eyes have a hunger and the anticipation is literally killing me. My pussy is throbbing, I need release; I'm going to cry or murder him if he doesn't do _some_thing.  
Then, as if reading my thoughts, he locks eyes with me while pushing the head of his cock inside me. I feel like I'm on fire, and I wrap my legs around his waist to feel him deeper. When he's fully enveloped, he gives a mix between a moan and a hiss, his eyes closing for a moment.

We move slowly at first, because of how small I am and because even the slightest movement feels like ecstasy. Loki kisses me again, hard like before, grinding his hips into me. Hours or only minutes could be passing, but eventually his kisses grow sloppy and his thrusts erratic. He leans down and bites the skin just above my breast, harder than any of his bites before. My orgasm explodes and I lose my vision in a haze of white for a moment, my walls clenching around him. Loki bites harder and gives a few more thrusts, furious and strong, before plunging fully inside and releasing his heated seed. He comes for more than a minute, seemingly frozen in his pleasure, before pulling out and collapsing onto me with a strangled sigh.

We lie like that for a long time, Loki with his head on my breast and his leg draped over mine. I think he might have fallen asleep, but when I move slightly to try and get up his eyes open and he pulls me back.

"You remember what I said to you in the moments before, yes?" he says softly, tracing the drying bloody outline of where he'd clamped his teeth. My mind is fuzzy at best, but I recall vaguely something about ownership.

"You said...something about consecrated? I don't know, tell me again."

Loki sighs exasperatedly before propping himself up with one arm. He turns my face to his with his other hand and leaves it there on my cheek.

"Sigyn, this is _not _a game. I want you to be fully aware of the consequences for what you have just done. You pledged yourself to me, body and mind, and now by that we are bound. Should you try to give your body to another, or should they try to take what is mine, there will be serious repercussions."

Okay, _now _I'm awake. Did he really say all that? Did I really agree to it?

"So, you're telling me that you _own _me now? Because we had sex, you own me?" I can feel my hackles start to raise. I don't want to be angry, not right now, but I can't help myself. I _hate _when anyone tries to take control of me.

"You misunderstand. I don't _own_ you like a common slave, nothing so provincial as all that; what I mean is that you are mine now. If you need love, it will be given by me. Your lips, your breasts, your thighs, your _love_...they are only for me now. A God does not _share_, **_especially_**not a woman."

I never pegged him for the jealous type. Certainly not the type who would care whether or not I slept around. As much as the idea of belonging to someone infuriates me, seeing the color rise in his cheekbones and the prideful tilt of his jaw makes me think it might not be so bad...

"So basically, I have to be your girlfriend now?" I say, raising my eyebrows skeptically. He looks puzzled, then frowns.

"It is far more than that..._mortal _slang encompasses, but I suppose it will do for now until you come to fully understand. Just remember that as quickly as I can give you pleasure, I can just as quickly take it away."  
The last words he whispers in my ear as he caresses the skin of my inner thigh. He dips one finger into my entrance before kissing me lightly on the cheek and disappearing.

That bastard.

****end chapter 3****


	4. Endless Nights

_****A/N: If you like what I'm doing so far and would like to see a certain pairing or storyline let me know! That said, enjoy chapter 4!****_

__~*Loki POV*~

What in Odin's name am I _doing? _Seducing a mortal is one thing; tricking her into pledging herself to me is something else entirely. Back in the days of old, when Norsemen worshiped Asgardians and made sacrifices in our names, it was common practice for young women to offer themselves to the Gods. Very much like in the temples of Athena and Artemis in Greece, they would don a certain kind of garb and tarry with no mortal man for the whole of their lives. Very few of these devotees, however, actually _became _the concubines or consorts of any of us. We might take them as lovers sometimes, maybe visit them in the night in the guise of a dream so as to bed them; never were any made pledges to my knowledge. To bond a mortal so tightly to oneself was frowned upon, although not forbidden outright; no one wanted to sire any demigods. Look at what happens with most of them.

Not only have I gone against an unwritten law from centuries ago, I have done it in haste and without thought; acting upon my most immediate desires. Now I must pace the floor and ask myself without end _was it worth it?_

_Was __**she **__worth it?_

__Normally, I would say no. Certainly not. This was a colossal mistake due to poor judgment brought about by the stress of my exile. I fear I am changing here, my mind is filling with thoughts that I can't collect, can't smooth and sort and file away. I wonder if the All-Father knows about what I've done, if he cares at all. I'm sure he has more pressing matters to attend to than a quandary his adopted, banished son has managed to become ensnared in.

Then there is the matter of Sigyn herself. I find it difficult to believe that she did not, on _some _level, comprehend what I told her before we copulated. To explain to her, truly _make _her understand what this means for her, I fear it would be too much. I'm...I'm actually _nervous _and filled with anxiety at the thought of her reaction.  
She'll say I tricked her, of that I'm sure. Who could blame her? It's what I'm known for. Trickery, twisting the truth, leaving out important details. To make matters worse, the power she wields over me can no longer be denied. She remains unaware for now, but she is clever. My body was out of my control at her touch, my reason lost in the haze of her scent.

Roses and bergamot, if I'm not mistaken.

Since I left Sigyn's bed nearly an hour ago, I can't erase the feeling of her skin against mine, of her hands in my hair. Half of me would like nothing more than to be back in that bed with her, leaving my mark upon her body. The other half, the sensible, controlled half is fervently motioning for me to stay put and try to right this situation to the best of my ability. The game has gotten out of hand.

This is absurd, really. The mortal girl has pledged herself to me willingly (for the most part) and _I _am the one suffering. Her body was incredible, marble-white and soft and ready to bend to my will. She opened for me like a flower, invited me into her like she had known the moment would come from the start.  
I confess I lost myself for a few moments near the end, seeing her in the throes of passion and feeling her warmth. Never have I felt so weak for a woman. I hate it. It is poison in my veins. I don't typically spill my seed so carelessly, either; I can't risk any bloodlines of mine continuing. Being a frost giant, who knows what a child sired by me would even be born as. Quite possibly, hideously mutated.

For this mortal, Sigyn, I forgot myself. I forgot myself in her kiss. I pushed all logic and reason to the back of my mind and allowed my body to do as it pleased.  
I am _not_ someone who does things without purpose.  
I hardly take a single _breath _without ulterior motives, and her I am letting my physical urges best me for the first time in my life. Letting a silly human girl best me.

It was a damn sight harder than I could have imagined to leave her afterwards, but she needs to come to her own realizations. She _will _call for me again, I am sure.

_But what if she doesn't?_

_Ridiculous. _She must call for me again, for she is my mate now. I will not be denied that which is mine.

...

Sometime between midnight and the morning I hear my own name in my ear, soft as a sylph's whisper, and am pulled into the vortex.

_She __**did **__call me. _

__I materialize in Sigyn's bedroom once again, where she is sitting cross-legged on her bed and staring intently at me. For a moment, neither one of us says anything. I feel like a child; awkward and inadequate.

"Guess I can't blame this on a butt-dial, huh?" she says, breaking the silence. I have no idea what she means, and I feel my face pulling into a slight frown.

"...And you have no idea what I'm talking about. Yeah sorry, I forgot you aren't human for a second...it's gonna take some getting used to." she looks sheepish and fiddles with the ends of her hair, which she now has in a thick braid.

"Your hair...it is most becoming, Gin." Already I have lost my self-control around her again! These thoughts that slip out of my mouth before I can decide upon them, they are infuriating. Sigyn doesn't seem to notice my inner turmoil, though; my compliment seems to have put the roses into her cheeks.

_Lovelier still..._

__"I...thank you. Uh, would you...um...would you like to sit with me here? On my bed, I mean." Oh, how she fidgets and looks down as though she is bashful. She's like a virgin the way she peers up at me through the net of her long lashes before looking quickly away.

"Very much," I reply before making my way to her. Her clothing (or lack thereof) is making me feel vaguely crazed again, like I wish to ravish her completely. Of course, I don't do that. Patience, Loki. Control. Calm.

"Look, Loki, I-I just wanted to...I can't help..." she seems to struggle with her words. She can barely meet my eyes, and I long to be able to be disgusted by her predictable humanity. All that I feel is the desire to kiss her until she feels no need to prattle on.

"Can't help what, Gin? Am I making you uncomfortable?" she shifts her position slightly so as to face me. Her posture has changed, straighter and chin up, and though a blush is still occupying her face, she locks eyes with me.

"I'm only going to say this once, Loki; you leave when I _say _you leave. No disappearing without warning, got it?"

The look of shock on my face must be comical. I don't think any woman save for my adoptive mother has ever spoken so severely to me. To give me an order...she is either very willful or very dim.

_She wants me to stay..._

__I move so my arms encircle her from behind, my lips at her throat. She leans into my embrace and gives a little shiver. Perhaps this is due to her unsuitable attire, but I would like to think not. It feels...it feels unspeakably good to have something that belongs only to me, even if it _is _a mortal woman. I ghost-kiss along her jawline, down her neck, on her exposed shoulder.

"Why, Miss Sorenson, I would never _dream _of disobeying you. Whomever your last lover may have been, he clearly was a fool for not doing everything in his power to keep you." I whisper into the shell of her ear. I have only my silvertongue to thank, for she turns around and claims my lips hungrily.

This time I let her take control of me, let her do to me what I did to her just hours before. She stops just short of tying me to her bedposts, so deeply embedded in her is the desire to dominate. I am spellbound, hypnotized. Sigyn is soft and gentle and vicious and primal. I fear if she continues this way, I will have her name on my lips like a prayer, in my flesh like a brand.

We spend the rest of the night under her blankets, playing a dangerous game to see who can wield the most power. From where I lie, I'd say it's hopelessly even.

****end chapter 4****

_A/N: sorry so short! I am in school ya know :p 3 Also, my Loki has been pretty much a dope for this girl so far, but don't worry; he'll be up to some nefarious shit soon. I mean, come on, he's gotta mess it up somehow!_


End file.
